A Momentary Lapse of Judgement
by Fatal Errors
Summary: A momentary lapse of judgment for two characters leads to a change in their relationship and their relative sanity! PG13 for possible harsh language later. ON PERMANENT HIATUS.
1. The Fuzzy Morning After

~Disclaimer: I don't own Chrono Trigger. If you didn't realize that, then slowly step away from the computer. You might hurt yourself. ~A/N: This fic slips in and out of first and third person. First person is the character's current pov. Third person is a flash-back thingy. Sorry if it's hard to read, but that was just really the easiest way for me to collect my thoughts. If enough flames are left to jumpstart my lazy butt, I just may rewrite the whole fic.  
  
Chapter 1: The (Fuzzy) Morning After  
  
***  
  
Let's just be clear on this fact: I'm not a morning person.  
  
Really, just look at the sun! It's so bright and. . . sunny.  
  
Wow, that was a really brain-dead statement. Like I was saying though, I do have my reasons.  
  
I have insomnia. Contrary to popular belief, learning to cope with insomnia is pretty easy. You just work your ass off all night, trying to repair stupid robots that think they're gonna be the next 'American Idol', or a transporter whose idea of fun is sending an annoying princess to a different era. (Well, on that note, the transporter could flay annoying princesses for all I care, as they tend to irk you less when skinless. But I digress.) Anyways, sleep deprivation will finally catch up with you, and you learn not to wake up when crashing to the floor. As long as you ignore all other little distractions, like the sounds of other people living their normal, happy lives, or the pool of motor oil you currently inhabit, you can sleep soundly, usually through the morning.  
  
* * *  
  
Gods, those horrible beasts are making a racket out there. I wish they'd shut up.that's it. . . those birds are dead!  
  
Geez. I don't think emptying a full clip into that tree was a good idea... she's moving!  
  
"Lucca? What's happening?"  
  
Damn her for waking up.  
  
"Ooooh, it's such a pretty morning!"  
  
Damn her for talking so loud.  
  
"Wakey-wakey Lucca!"  
  
Damn her for living.  
  
"I'm trying to sleep, Marle. Please go away."  
  
"Aw, why are you so grumpy? Come on, wake up and greet the day!"  
  
It's so cold all of a sudden. . . damn her to hell!  
  
"Give the blanket back now Marle or Chrono'll need a dustpan to pick up what's left of you."  
  
That horrible grating noise! Why must she giggle so much?  
  
"Wow Lucca! That was a great Magus impersonation!"  
  
Impersonation. . . yeah. At least I got the blanket back.  
  
"How can you waste such a beautiful morning?"  
  
"Easily." Ooh, its warm under here.  
  
* * *  
  
Like I was saying before, I'm not much of a morning person. The sight of dew on grass doesn't fill me with joy, mostly because I usually stay up late enough the night before to see it form. But for once Marle is right. I am grumpy. My head feels like a hard-boiled egg and her nasally voice is cracking its shell.  
  
There's a lesson here kids. Just remember, tequila is bad for you. The first shot may be heaven, but the twelfth or thirteenth (. . . fifteenth?) is hell.  
  
Of course, I don't remember much after the tenth shot, so maybe it's a bit of an embellishment to call the last shot hell.  
  
Anyways, back to the point. It's hard to resist a drink when the weather is cold and the tavern is hot. Besides, where else can one hear a moving rendition of the timeless song of love and loss that is "99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall?"  
  
I was weak; I gave into temptation. And boy was it fun. But now, I'm paying the price with a wicked hangover after consuming enough alcohol to kill a moose. A really, really big moose.  
  
* * *  
  
"Lucca? C'mon get up! Let's do stuff!"  
  
Stuff? No, please God, not stuff!  
  
"Marle, honey, please go away. I don't want to do 'stuff'. I want to sleep, or preferably die."  
  
"Wow, you really are grumpy today! Oh. . . I know what'll make you feel better!!!"  
  
"No, Marle, really."  
  
"SHOPPING!!"  
  
*Sigh* The dreaded S word. First she irritates me at the crack of dawn, and now she wants to shop. Could things get worse?  
  
"Ooh, and while were shopping, I can tell you all about the interesting gossip I heard about a certain unnamed wizard, a 'magus' if you will, and his late night adventures!"  
  
Yes, apparently things can get worse. Much, much worse. On the bright side though, it looks like Marle has finally mastered the double entendre.  
  
Geez. . . how did I get myself into this mess? 


	2. Storms

~Disclaimer: No don't ask, cause I don't own it. ~A/N: Yes, I know, this fic sucks. Try to enjoy.  
  
Chapter 2: Storms  
  
A very angry blue-haired mage stalked into the clearing. Had his younger, only slightly less brooding self been there, he would have declared that a 'black wind' was beginning to blow.  
  
"What have I gotten into?" He asked himself. "Traveling with this rag-tag band of fools on a journey that will only lead to their destruction and mine by association? Acting the part of the hero? This ends now. The girl will take me back to 600 AD, and I will destroy Lavos myself."  
  
When he finally reached the Epoch, he made a startling discovery. It looked like a 1000-piece jigsaw puzzle, in the pre-assembled phase. And that was not good, not good at all. His temper flared wildly.  
  
"GIRL!!!"  
  
A tired sigh escaped the hull of the Epoch.  
  
"What is it Magus?"  
  
"I want the Epoch," he growled, "so get out here and fix it."  
  
"Well, you're never too old to want, Magus. Besides, that's what I'm doing, I'm fixing it."  
  
"For your well being, you should reassemble it, and NOW."  
  
"Getting impatient Lord of Something-or-other?" Lucca called out from under the Epoch.  
  
"Girl, don't you dare get impertinent with me! I could easily. . ."  
  
Lucca stuck her head out from under the ship. With a blasé expression and lazy movements of her head she said, "What, create a black hole and send me to some nether-dimension where demons and monsters are waiting to rip my flesh from my bones? Trust me; I think I'd prefer that than have to suffer through another one of your overblown tirades."  
  
With a cutting smile Lucca ducked back under the Epoch as she racked up the day's scoreboard. "Me: 3 points, Slightly Effeminate Mage: Zero!" Ah, this was definitely making up for the. . . crappy. . . night she had. But it was best not to think of that.  
  
Magus's anger was beginning to boil over, mostly because Lucca had guessed his threat more or less correctly, and voiced it with nearly the same phrasing he would have used. "How dare that homely tomboy mock me! There are harsher punishments then the nether-dimensions!" He paused from yet another tirade, albeit a mental one.  
  
"Besides," he sniffed to himself, slightly hurt, "they aren't overblown tirades, but testaments to my fearsome power!"  
  
Out loud, however, he was nothing if not poised. "Well, aren't we witty today? Crono blow you off again? The way he's been strutting around I guess he had a pretty good night, and if your attitude is any indication it wasn't with you."  
  
Lucca grimaced to herself. It was unfair that the wizard should have an insight into her psyche. A quick recap of the score had an even more dismal effect on her emotions: "VERY Effeminate Mage: 2 points, Me: -72."  
  
Deciding that she was not going to give him the pleasure of a stunned silence, she stuck her head back out and declared, "That was a cheap shot, oh mighty Overlord of Nothing. Besides, the ditz can have him. They were made for each other. He doesn't talk, and she talks way too much. And the more time they spend together, the less time I have to spend with HER."  
  
Smiling cruelly, Magus opened his mouth to say something undoubtedly wicked when he was interrupted by a loud rumbling. The sky, which had been a sickly shade of blue all day was now slate gray, and the rumbling of thunder was accompanied by lightning.  
  
"Damnit!" Shouted Lucca, as she scuttled out from under the Epoch and began to gather up her tools. Pulling a large tarp from her bag she thrust one end into Magus's hand, and ran to the other side of the bulky machine.  
  
"What the hell is this for?" Magus asked.  
  
"Don't get dense on me now! Help me cover the Epoch!"  
  
"Oh, no you don't! You are going to fix this machine RIGHT NOW!" He stomped his feet and crossed his arms, shooting Lucca a determined look.  
  
She glared at him angrily. "I am not fixing this thing in this weather! Besides, it can't get wet; it'll get destroyed!"  
  
At that very moment the sky opened up and rain began to fall in sheets. The ground quickly turned into mud and the Epoch was getting drenched. Finally, a very exasperated Lucca yanked the tarp from Magus's hands, which caused the pompous wizard to fall very unceremoniously onto his backside.  
  
"You will pay for that you little wench!" roared the mage, his eyes glowing an even more unnatural shade of red, like fire engine red or L'Oreal lipstick #34. "I command you to fix this contraption NOW!"  
  
"Go to hell!" Lucca screamed back. "Or a bath house! You might fit in better there!"  
  
The mage paled with anger, which in his case meant his white skin turned nearly luminescent.  
  
"I'm going to teach you never to disrespect your betters, four-eyes!" He raised his hand, clearly getting ready to form that black hole he would've threatened her with earlier, if she hadn't stolen the words from his mouth.  
  
Suddenly, a flash of lighting struck the ground between them. Their eyes met, and with a suitably dramatic "This isn't over girl!" and "Screw off, King of Misfits!" they turned as one and fled to the relative safety of the inn. 


End file.
